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Archive for: June 2016
A misprinted sale sticker on an off-brand dandruff shampoo will send the scent “Mountain Forest Morning Dew” flying off the shelves of the Coma Dollar Store next week.
In addition to protecting a plurality of residents from dandruff, the widespread use of Morning Dew will create overwhelming odor clouds among all large concentrations of residents.
This reporter learned about the coming “Shampoo-mageddon” through a peyote fueled fever dream.
Most townsfolk declined to comment on their dandruff but Mayor Dave Anderson said that he’s just happy to see people so interested in personal hygiene.
“It was a smelly winter, lots of body odor, we almost put out a deodorant PSA but local activists complained it was too racist-classist-sexist-age-
An unexpected side effect of the shampoo wave will be the emergence of an odor-based social system.
Residents allergic to the scent or just strongly unfond of it will be driven to visit groceries or banks and to run other errands at different times the Forest Morning-scented citizens.
By Stoner Steve, columnist
They didn’t listen when I said aliens were transmitting through my ceral’s “snap, crackle and pop,” and they were oddly unconcerned when the ATMs with mirrored glass popped up all over town (who are their cameras really watching?).
But it’s truly time for my fellow Comatons to wake up and face the reality of aliens in our midst.
I first grew curious when I noticed these guys doing something no drunk adult would even consider: riding bikes on the winding court roads all around town.
I remember first seeing these guys when my buddy Roger almost drove one off the road. I was like “Man, that dude must be high ’cause we almost killed him dead.”
But my buddy was like “No dude, he’s not high; he’s a street biker.”
A what whatter?
And then I noticed these dudes on streets all around town. You’d be blasting down some winding country lane in you El Camino and right around a blind corner there’s one of the “street bikers” huffing his way up a hill at 2 MPH.
And they’re doing this for fun.
Seriously, most of the swarms of these guys show up on the weekends, so it’s not some kind of group of guys desperate to get to work or class after all their cars broke down.
Not is there apparently no normal human worry about risking your life to do something “fun,” these guys also apparently know that normal laws don’t apply to them. I saw like 25 street bikers blast through a red traffic light in the center of town without even slowing down. And they were flicking off a cop while doing it!
My tail would be dragged out of the El Camino and beaten for 20 minutes solid if I pulled that one!
Then it occurred to me, if they’re not drunk, crazy or stupid, then they must know nothing can hurt them–not gravity, physics, the law or common human decency. And if none of those things apply to them we have to be dealing with something not of this world.
So the next time you almost have a head-on collision after a 3MPH street biker forces you drive around them, remember that we continue exist only because these alien overlords allow it.
And if you don’t see me again it’ll either because they got me or because I finally figured out a way to move to Colorado. 4:20 Forever!
by Marybell Davis, columnist, Snapchatter, Private Dick (which is so gross)
Daddy Warbucks: Marybell how’s your job search coming?
Marybell: Not now, Daddy. I need to tweet about how everyone needs to join Habitat for Humanity.
Daddy Warbucks: I thought you quit after you realized you didn’t know how to use a hammer.
Marybell: Shhh, Daddy. I need to concentrate. Tweeting is hard work.
Being selfless is so weird. Like, why would you want to? The invention of Snapchat, Pinterest and Twitter–and a hundred years ago, YouTube and Facebook–showed us all how important each of our opinions are and how we feel at every, single minute is super-important. What’s a lot less shareable is what we do, so why would anyone do something selfless? I mean, it sounds nice, but if you can’t share it, did it even happen?
You know what’s also weird? Homelessness.
Recently my friend, Hope, said that maybe since I have so much time– because I can’t find a job that will pay me what I’m worth–maybe I should volunteer.
“What does that even mean,” I said.
“Well, some people are homeless,” Hope said. “And they need us to volunteer and help them.”
“How do you that?” I asked.
“No, not me,” she said. “I’m totally wiped taking graduate school classes in Library Science but maybe you should,” Hope said.
So, I decided to volunteer because maybe people will hire me as a private dick if they know I care about things like hammers and houses. At least it’s not spending time with people with cancer, which is so gross. It’s just building a house. Plus when I tweeted about it people were really proud of me.
So I went. And I tried to hammer a nail three times and it just didn’t work. I asked the manager if I could volunteer for something else because the hammer was really difficult and probably broken.
“Maybe I could volunteer with social media, you know, something that would let me look attractive and sound compassionate?” I said.
“No, we just build houses,” mean manager-guy said. “Maybe you can do drywall?”
I finally got it.
Mystery solved: Some people are just A LOT better talking about doing stuff on social media than actually doing something. Know who you are and don’t be selfish about sharing it.
The Horncraft family’s traditional Friday game night has stretched on for nearly two weeks.
Micah Horncraft, the family’s husband and father, was the one who suggested the family play Monopoly and even agreed to act as the bank.
But after five days of Monopoly the Horncraft family realized it had created a self-sustaining economy within the Monopoly universe.
Micah’s wife, Stacey, had agreed to play Monopoly as part of a desperate attempt to lift her husband’s spirits after he lost his accountant job in January.
“He’s just been so sad and desperate,” Stacey Horncraft said. “I caught him doing the dog’s taxes a few weeks ago.”
An Internet-based psychologist said the Horncraft family should have gone insane by day three but theorized that their sanity was partly saved by playing the “How The Grinch Stole Christmas” version of the game.
Though not legally being held captive, the Sean, the Horncraft’s 17-year-old son, hasn’t left the house in weeks.
“Missed most of the last two weeks of school but this game is starting to eat into my summer–BUMMRRZZZ,” Sean Horncraft texted.
Several Coma residents quizzed about the Horncraft’s binge-play expressed the greatest surprise that any family in Coma still played board games together.
“The only time I get with my 7- and 13-year-old grandkids to sit with me is when they let me watch ‘Game of Thrones’ with them,” said Stan Bargmeyer. “They’re going to show me ‘The Wire’ next.”
It’s unsure how long the game will last but the lack of funds –the Whoville themed Monopoly money isn’t legal tender–will likely force someone to leave for an ATM and food.
This advertorial does not necessarily reflect the views of Coma News Daily.
My Amazing Screenplay Just BUY IT
The Fifth Sense: A Prequel to the Popular Thriller ‘The Sixth Sense’
I’m Dee Collins and all I do is pump out the most amazing screenplays of all time and then sell them through traditional classified advertising methods. Read my classified ad below and then contact me to buy my amazing screenplay for at least $700,000!
Titled, The Fifth Sense: A Prequel to the Popular Thriller ‘The Sixth Sense’, this film tells the story of the boy who sees dead people before he started seeing dead people.
And yes, Bruce Willis returns to reprise his role as the guy who teaches people how to deal with undiscovered senses.
Before that little kid could see dead people in the popular thriller ‘The Sixth Sense’, he came to terms with another sense; the sense of touch. With the help of Bruce Willis, the little kid learns how things feel and how to describe textures.
Can he do it? You’ll have to purchase this screenplay to find out, but here’s a little hint; YES!
He does because Bruce Willis helps him.
“The Fifth Sense: A Prequel to the Popular Thriller ‘The Sixth Sense’”
Starring Bruce Willis and the little kid from the movie “The Sixth Sense”
INT. LIVING ROOM- DAY
Bruce Willis sits in a chair and stares at the little kid from The Sixth Sense. The little kid sits on a couch and extends his hand toward a lamp on a nearby coffee table.
I don’t feel anything.
The little kid waves his arms around in the air and looks panicked.
You’re not touching anything. You’re not going to feel something until you physically make contact with it. You’re swinging at air, kid.
The little kid slowly leans forward until he is close enough to touch the base of the lamp. He runs his hands over the lamp and then smiles.
Hey, I can feel it. It feels like…like…I don’t know what it feels like. This is the first time I’ve ever felt something.
It feels like a lamp because that’s what it is. If you’re going to describe it, say it feels like a lamp.
Dr. Willis, does everything in the world feel exactly like this lamp feels?
Bruce Willis rolls his eyes and shakes his head.
No. There’s all kinds of things that things feel like. Leather, wood, fruit, suction cups. There’s dozens of different things to feel.
Can I stop touching the lamp now?
That’s all I’m going to share! If you want to buy this screenplay (I’m asking between $700,000 and $1.3 million) to find out what happens, get in touch soon! This is a sure-fire box-office smash!
By Coma News Daily Staff
Coma resident and father of three, Dale Buckley, officially called off the search for two missing Easter eggs from last spring’s annual Buckley Family Easter Egg Hunt.
“I hate giving up but with all the leaves cluttering up the grass and the limited daylight hours, it’s not likely we are going to retrieve those eggs,” Buckley said.
Buckley and his wife, Norma, hid more than ten dozen plastic Easter eggs on Easter morning in April. All but five of the eggs were discovered during the annual egg hunt that afternoon. Two more were found several days later.
In July, Buckley found one of the missing eggs near some decorative rocks in front of his house while pulling weeds.
“I realized that if I could find this egg, surely I could find the others,” the 35-year old taxidermist said. “So I started searching.”
Buckley’s search included more than four dozen sweeps of his yard, significant costs associated with renting surveyor equipment, and hours and hours of crawling around on his lawn in search of the two missing eggs. According to Buckley’s wife, the project put a tremendous strain on their marriage.
“He would be out there in the middle of the night with a flashlight and some contraption that looked like a metal detector,” Norma Buckley said. “I would call out to him to get his ass back in the house because he was being a fool.”
According to Norma, her husband would typically wave her off and say “what if it was me lost out here in the grass? Would you just give up and go to bed?”
Buckley said last week he realized his days were numbered, especially with the change in seasons and daylight savings.
“Those two little plastic eggs with M&Ms inside are just lost to Mother Nature at this point,” Buckley said. “I feel like I let them down.”
Buckley announced the end to the search during breakfast yesterday morning while running his fork through a pile of scrambled eggs.
On This Day in History…
Mailbox ‘Hat’ Invented in Coma
By Stan Bargmeyer, senior citizen intern
Robert Hardt grew sick and tired of picking up the remains of his mailbox after local mailbox baseball players kept knocking it loose.
So, in 1987 he decided to do something about it.
First came a treated 4×4 post, but it was snapped. He moved up to a 6 inch fencepost, and they got it too–although it cost them the front bumper of their truck.
Next came Hardt’s “stunt” mailbox, which placed several fake mailboxes in a row so the lead box got hit. However, on some “heavy rotation” nights batters would work their way through all five stunt boxes until they were able to destroy his actual box.
In his diary, Hardt recalled that he ran out of mailbox money for a while so he took to camping out near his mailbox and reporting the license plate numbers of smashers to the Coma Sheriff.
“Fat Bastard wouldn’t do a thing,” Hardt wrote. “And I think some of the box-smashers are off-duty deputies.”
Undeterred, Hardt moved on to a very large mailbox, with a smaller one inside it, and filled the cavity
between the two with concrete.
“They got that one with a snow plow mounted on the front of a truck,” Hardt wrote in his diary.
The first “Hardt Hat” mailbox was a regular mailbox mounted on a spring pole. The next couple of times
they smashed it, Hardy just hammered it back out.
“I thought they might get tired if they found I wasn’t bothering to replace the mailbox,” Hardt wrote. “That
stopped em for a while; then they realized that the spring post was in two bolted-together sections. So they stole the top section and mailbox.”
His second Hardt Hat mailbox finally did the trick. It was simply a heavy duty quarter-inch steel box welded to a 4-foot long heavy coil spring set in a 7-foot deep concrete base.
“The solution was so simple and staring me in the face all along,” Hardt wrote to himself.
Even decades later, Hardt Hat mailboxes continue to dot Coma and their recoil continues to provide satisfying dents in drive-by vehicles across town.